Christmas in the Dungeons
by WildBubblesRoam
Summary: [Post-war smutty one-shot.] Hermione attends the annual Holiday Party at Hogwarts, only to discover Lucius Malfoy has also come out to Hogwarts to share in the festivities. Arguments ensue, flirtations are exchanged, but will fantasies come to fruition when the proud Griffyndor and the cocky Slytherin take things a step further down in the dungeons? [Rated M For Sexual Content]


_**Author's Notes: Whew! I actually managed to finish this in time! (It is after 6am though and I still haven't gone to bed...but at least it's Christmas!) I hope you all have Happy Holidays throughout the winter and a great New Year! Here's something to keep you all nice and warm ;) Enjoy!**_

* * *

The war had left them shattered, broken apart from the inside out and left to pick up the pieces as best as they could. With Voldemort gone, everything seemed to settle and fall back into place. Peaceful times had been among the wizarding community for four years now, and was still going stronger than ever. Though they had lost friends, family, and loved ones, life went on simply because it was the only option they had.

They started with Hogwarts, rebuilding and reinstating the sense of safety and wonder that every child who passed through its hallways deserved to feel. Piece by piece, the crumbled walls had been swept away and replaced with stronger, grander stonework. The blood had been washed away, out of sight and out of mind as students focused on their studies and not on how fragile their lives truly were. Dumbledore would have been proud.

As the ministry staff was gutted completely, stripping away of the corrupted, the power-hungry, and the cruel, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been appointed Minister of Magic. He would bring honor to the title, compassion to the role, and swift justice to those who had threatened to spill the seeds of hatred and prejudice under the cover of the Dark Lord's prolonged reign. They had been difficult times, but as the ministry slowly began to transform and brighten for the better, the world brightened with it.

Shortly after the war, Harry had asked Ginny for her hand in marriage. It was no surprise when she agreed; the war had forced them to grow up quicker than they otherwise would, especially the young fiery-haired witch. The fear and the uncertainty that surrounded them day in and day out for years had only pushed them closer together, strengthening their relationship and forming an unbreakable bond that held true even after the world began to recover from Voldemort's vicious temper.

The transition hadn't gone so smoothly for other Hogwarts sweethearts. As life settled down and the thrill and passion that the war had involuntarily produced died away, the spark that had been lit between Hermione and Ron had burnt out within months. They stretched it out longer than necessary, claiming at first that it would be selfish to go their separate ways what with the Potter-Weasley wedding scheduled so soon. That had been during the spring. By early summer, Hermione had moved back into her childhood home with her mum and dad.

She expected it to hurt more, more tears, more haunted memories, and more regrets, but as she gradually went on with her life one day at a time, it became blatantly clear that they had both made the right decision. Though Hermione doubted he had been seeing someone else on the side during the final few weeks of their relationship, she learned through the grapevine that he had begun seeing Katie Bell only five days after their break up.

_That bit hurt_. She was happy for him, deep down, but the first few emotions that came to the surface when she heard the news were far from joy. Apparently they had bumped into each other while attending a Quidditch match. They hit it off quickly, discussing their mutual love of the game and eventually taking that passion straight out of the spectator stands and right between the sheets. A year later, Mrs. Weasley was ecstatic to find out she would be a grandmother. Though Harry and Ginny had been trying unsuccessfully, it seemed Ron had no issues with the deed, despite it not being in the least bit planned.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. _'Dodged a bullet with that one,'_ she thought privately when she heard the news. Though she hadn't entirely forced the idea of creating a family out her mind, she knew there was absolutely no rush. Thus far, her youth had been spent saving the world and fighting full-grown, bat-shit crazy witches and wizards. If she hurried into a marriage and started a family, when would she get to explore? When would she ever get to cut loose, let her hair down, and live for herself?

'_Most definitely dodged a bullet,'_ she reconfirmed as she passed through the crowded halls of the old enchanted castle and spotted Katie with a small, wide-eyed child in toe. It had been four, almost five years since the end of the war and as a new tradition, Hogwarts opened its doors for one evening to celebrate the holidays and the continuance of peace. Though there were still a small handful of students slinking around during the winter break, unable to return home for one reason or another, the majority of the dorms and classrooms stood empty as the festivities roared loudly from the Great Hall and surrounding corridors.

Large red banners extended down from the candlelit ceiling, loosely dangling down with an elegant arrangement of gold and silver tinsel filling the dark night's sky. A massive evergreen tree had been brought in and decorated accordingly, complete with ornaments, enchanted lights, and a glimmery star resting proudly on top. Various wrapped gift boxes sat beneath its aromatic, pine-needle covered branches; some were donations to the school as a whole while others were clearly labeled and reserved for various professors.

Hermione passed it with a smile. The holidays reminded her of home. The snow and the decorations were a relief after months of the typical dreary, rainy weather of home. As a child, her parents always went overboard with faerie lights, wreaths on nearly every door, and of course mum's famous honey ham and Christmas cake. Part of Hermione wondered if her mum kept up all of their traditions for so many years in hopes of someday sharing them with a grandchild.

She let the thought slip away as the young witch made her way through the crowds of various witches and wizards spread out through the length of the Great Hall. The four house tables had been cleared away, leaving plenty of room for guests to move about, mingling and chatting over bite-sized hors d'oeuvres and clinking glasses.

Harry spotted her first, calling her over to his crowded corner of the room quickly before the rest of the people surrounding him joined in. Their old classmates had naturally gravitated towards one another until the back left corner of the Great Hall had practically been transformed into their old Gryffindor common room, if only by company and rowdiness alone. "Hermione! You made it!" Harry welcomed her happily, pulling her into a brotherly hug before passing her along to Ginny.

The youngest Weasley was glowing. Their latest attempt at beginning their family had taken hold and as long as their fingers stayed crossed and their thoughts hopeful, their first bouncing, bubbly bundle of joy was set to arrive sometime late spring, early summer. In the last owl Ginny had sent to Hermione, they had joked that if the little guy or girl managed to stay in there long enough, they might arrive as an early birthday gift for Harry's 23rd birthday.

"It's starting to get late. We were beginning to worry you weren't going to come this year." Ginny greeted her with an equally warm hug and a brushed peck on the cheek.

Hermione smiled and went down the line, embracing Neville next, followed by George, skipping over to Luna, and then finally ending with Ron. He was alone as Katie paraded around their little daughter, showing the tiny Gryffindor-in-training all the moving portraits and ancient architecture that the castle had to offer. It was late and the child was no doubt getting tired and fussy, but with nearly everyone attending the holiday party at Hogwarts, their list of babysitters had most likely been left bare for the evening. Ron offered her an awkward smile as their brief embrace ended. "Yeah, 'Mione. It's good seeing you." Though their relationship hadn't ended badly per say, their friendship had never returned to the way it once was.

Nodding graciously in agreement, Hermione turned back to Ginny. "I had some work to finish before I came." Hermione worked for the Ministry, first briefly in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, before transferring to her current position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"They're really demanding a lot from you. You always seem busy working overtime or taking your work home." Ginny commented. "You'll burn yourself out by New Years if you keep going at this rate." She was only teasing. Everyone knew if anyone was capable of handling the amount of pressure Hermione put herself under when it came to her work, it was her. Just like with her studies while growing up at Hogwarts, Hermione had always been the one to go the extra mile, write the extra foot of parchment on every essay assigned to them, read the extra textbook a year or two ahead of each class they were set to attend.

Work had been no different. If anything, after her breakup with Ron, she dove even further into her work. It was the much needed distraction she needed and so long as it kept her mind busy, it could never be too much to handle. Hermione shrugged with a smile. "Hopefully all these extra hours will pay off soon. My quarterly review is scheduled for late-January. I'm hoping to get a promotion, if I can just keep at it until then."

"Are you kidding?" Harry jumped in. "From what I've heard, the position's practically yours already. They're just waiting on the paperwork to make it official, but you're a shoe-in, no doubt about it."

She blushed. "Thanks Harry, but the decision won't actually be final until I move into the bigger cubical."

* * *

After mingling, reuniting, and catching up with a few familiar faces and being introduced to countless new ones, Hermione headed for the open bar. It wasn't much of an offering; a thin man with a long face stood behind a rectangular counter situated tightly in a corner across the room. A few stools had been scattered around the counter, though only a couple of them actually held occupants. Most witches and wizards of the evening tended to collect their drinks then return to go socialize with the rest of the party.

She had thought to do exactly that. Grab a drink, down it, grab another, then carry it over to where Harry and the rest of her friends stood. She could clutch to it for a couple hours, smile and laugh at their jokes, then excuse herself when she found she had presented a good enough appearance for the night. It wasn't that she disliked them. She adored her friends, but as Ginny had commented earlier, Hermione had debated whether or not to show up at all. It wasn't so much the heavy workload that made her doubt coming, but the constant, unavoidable, nagging question that everyone she encountered would ask. _'No date for the evening?' 'Have you come alone?' 'Any special gentleman to speak of?'_ Or worse yet was the more prying question, _'You're quite the catch, Hermione. How are you still single?'_

The urge to roll her eyes after each person questioned her relationship status would surely give her a headache by the end of the night. Perhaps it was the overwhelming number of her classmates who had found love since the war's end. Harry had Ginny, Luna had Neville, Ron had Katie, and even Hagrid had Madame Maxime, the oversized headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. As Hermione glanced around the room, she saw couple after happy couple and didn't envy a single one of them.

She was determined, a bright witch with a brilliant future ahead of her. The last thing she wanted was to settle down early, birth a few kids, and become a shut-in for the rest of her life. The life of a bored housewife was certainly never in her plans. As she left Hogwarts years ago and began her career, she realized fairly quickly that her strong-will and lack of wifely dreams acted as somewhat of a deterrent for most men she encountered.

_'Fair enough,'_ she had deemed one night after a particularly awkward date ended with the wizard having nearly forced himself into her tiny London flat before she could even ask him if he wanted a cup of tea. _'That's the end of that,'_ she thought sternly. After firmly slamming the door in the disappointed wizard's face and making her own self a nice, warm cup of tea before bed, Hermione had made a pact, a promise to herself. _'No more dating until I get my own life sorted. Career, proper flat, and a comfortable nest egg started in the bank for my retirement.'_ She nodded, satisfied with her decision.

It had been going well. Her quality of work skyrocketed, earning her the recognition and attention of all her bosses. If it weren't for her decision to put herself first, Hermione doubted she would have even had a chance at the promotion she was so close to getting now. Her plans were going accordingly, but as she looked around the room and watched Katie Bell walk around to various old classmates and professors, the bright-eyed, red-haired child held proudly in her arms, Hermione pulled her eyes away. She felt a bitterness that she couldn't place and ordered a gin and tonic.

"If a pity party is what you're after, you'll need a stronger drink than that." An arrogant drawl called to her from across the bar's long counter. Sitting down at the other end of the bar, his platinum hair was immaculate as well as the freshly pressed suit and the dark set of robes that covered him. His long blond hair was pulled back, tied neatly with a silk black ribbon at the base of his head. "Firewhiskey should do the trick," he added, motioning sharply to the bartender to scratch the gin and tonic entirely in favor of his suggestion. His hand reached down below the tall counter before reappearing seconds late to toss down a few silver coins.

_'Lucius Malfoy,'_ Hermione frowned. If she had noticed him sitting at the bar earlier, she wouldn't have hesitated to force on a grin and return back to her friends, a drink or two firmly in hand. "Put your money away, Malfoy. No one's having a pity party here." She turned back to the bartender and reiterated her request for a simple gin and tonic.

His coins remained on the counter as he pushed his empty glass forward. "Another for me then. Go easy on the ice this time. I'm not tipping you to give me watered down drinks, am I?" The bartender complied, delivering Hermione's drink before exchanging Malfoy's empty glass for a full one. The firewhiskey burnt at his throat as he swallowed it down. It had been his third so far for the night and he was beginning to feel the effects on his already-inflated ego. He stood from his stool, drink in hand, and strutted a few seats down until he was only one stool away from hers. "I don't suppose anyone is sitting here," he stated confidently before pulling it out from the bar and sitting down.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Was that one not comfortable enough?" She asked sarcastically, glancing at the seat further down the bar he had been sitting in only moments earlier.

"Comfortable, yes," the tall wizard replied. "But the view was rubbish." He smirked, a slight charm slipping over his tongue as he spoke.

She felt her eyes going around again. If she hadn't known anything at all about him, she would assume he was attempting to flirt with her. But if her years of experience with the Malfoys showed for anything, she knew the last thing any pureblood elitest wizard like Lucius would ever dream of doing, would be to associate with a muggleborn. _'Even if that muggleborn happened to be up for a prominent promotion, most likely leading to a highly respectable career,'_ she thought humorously, refusing to cut herself short simply for the sake of modesty, especially when it concerned the elder Malfoy male. _'Not to mention, said muggleborn also being an intelligent, decent-looking, independent witch in her own right.'_

When the war ended, the rumors went flying almost as quickly as how fast the hundreds of deatheaters had fled from the battleground. Even before it had all ended, the number of wizards and witches apparating away and slinking back into the shadows was ridiculous. The Malfoys had been one of the few families to remain. They had been frightened, humiliated, and swiftly brought to face the penalties for their actions and involvement with the Dark Lord's crimes. Draco had stood in defense of his father, claiming a mixture of imperius cures alongside the overwhelming fear and intimidation that Voldemort inflicted on his family to blame for his father's involvement. With the added support of his wife's corroborating story in his benefit, he was let off with a heavy fine, a strict probation that he doubted would ever be lifted, and an accompanying tracker that traced his every movement. If he left his home, the ministry knew. If he set foot in any questionable area of the wizarding world that the ministry didn't approve of, he was called into the ministry the very next day to explain his whereabouts down to the minute. His wand held the same traces, transmitting a live stream of spells that it produced on a daily basis. The Ministry had him strapped up tight and if he slipped up in the least, they would know about it.

Along with the various rumors that had circulating following his semi-free release back into wizarding society, also came the rumor of a separation. His wife, humiliated by yet another stain on their family, as well as the difficult grieving over her sister, Narcissa left one morning to go to town and never returned. Lucius had waited a series of months before finally admitting to the truth. She had left him. She came from an equality prominent family, leaving his extensive wealth useless against her own family fortune. The manor had become her home over the years but when push came to shove, it was nothing more than concrete and stone, as cold and as rigid as their marriage had turned while under the Dark Lord's control.

Draco had moved into London to pursue a clean, honorable career, much like Hermione, except his subconscious need for a promising future was much deeper rooter than hers. Coming from the sheltered upbringing, the tainted family, and the wealth, he felt a clear pressure that everyone placed on him after the war. If he couldn't stand independently from his father's reputation, his family's wealth, and his privileged life thus far, then he had nothing to call his own.

Hermione's eyes roamed over the various faces throughout the Great Hall until she found Draco. He had a beautiful, tall witch on his arm and a smile on his face. He looked different, peaceful even. Perhaps the years of stress and worry over having to join Voldemort and please his family had finally departed, leaving him a shell of his former self, if only for the better. _'Good for him. He's finally done right.'_ Hermione thought silently as she took another sip of her drink.

"My son," Lucius chimed in from his stool down the bar, having noticed her staring at Draco. "He's a good man." Hermione breathed in a deep breath from her nose and nodded. Perhaps if she went along with him, he would grow tired of their conversation and move back to his seat further down the bar. Lucius continued, gesturing towards the woman by Draco's side. "His soon-to-be bride."

"Congratulations," Hermione offered softly. "You must be proud."

Lucius hesitated, eyeing the woman for a moment longer before agreeing with a brief nod. "Her mother's muggleborn." He added matter-of-factually before taking a drink from his glass. "I suppose it's getting harder to find suitable pureblood partners nowadays."

Hermione nearly audibly gasped. He couldn't have possibly said what she thought he had said, not to her of all people. Her brows furled as she shot back sharply, "Or perhaps he loves her and has looked past her background. Have you ever thought of that?"

Her cheeks flushed when she was angry and as she spoke so harshly with him, he watched the pink quickly turn to a rosy glow across her face. He smiled, stifling back a laugh and letting it out as a quick, muffled chuckle from behind his glass. "You're right. Perhaps he's simply settled."

"I didn't say that. If he loves her, then he's not settling at all." Hermione was close to pushing her stool away from the counter and storming off when she spotted the wicked grin on Malfoy's face, spreading quickly up to his blue-grey eyes and forming tiny hairline wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He was having a go at her, trying to get a rise out of her for the fun of it, and just as he had expected, she had delivered. Realizing it quickly, Hermione grit her teeth and remarked bitterly, "You should watch your tongue, Malfoy. People might think you haven't learned anything at all over all these years."

He held up his hands innocently and laughed. "Only having a touch of fun. You'll have to excuse me. I've been told my sense of humor is a bit warped at best."

"I didn't realize there was anything to joke about." Hermione replied curtly. If he thought he was off the hook that easily, he was sorely mistaken. "Most people don't care about the blood purity of their partners. It's not what's important."

Lucius smirked. His lips seemed dangerous, curled and curved to perfection when his eyes stilled on hers so flirtatiously. "What's important to you, Miss Granger?" He was arrogant and overly proud, but as he bore into her as if she were the only witch left in the room, he came off as nothing short of remarkably confident.

It took her off guard. _'He's a snob,'_ Hermione reminded herself. _'Don't make a fool of yourself. He's not flirting with you. He's just trying to get a rise out of you again.'_ She sipped at her drink and replied briskly, "I don't date."

"I didn't ask if you dated." Lucius corrected her sternly.

Hermione paused. If he hadn't meant dating, she must have misheard him initially. Her eyes pulled away to glance back at Draco. But they had clearly been discussing Draco's fiancee and her half-blood status. Her mind wandered to less innocent thoughts. She knew better than to assume if someone wasn't dating, that they were also celibate. Over the past year or so, she had taken a wizard here or there home only to dismiss him away early the next morning if he wasn't already gone by then. There had even been a muggle man at one point, but when he kept calling on her every other week to share her company, she cut off all contact with him. The last thing she needed was some boy seeming to think he could snap his fingers and she'd be suddenly available to fuck, dropping all prior engagements to spend a few sloppy, awkward hours together before allowing him to slink away until the next time.

She played innocent, replying plainly, "Well if I don't date, then I obviously don't need a type, now do I?" She shrugged, as if daring him to continue.

He couldn't say whether it was the drink that had loosened his tongue and heightened his confidence to think he could somehow woo her, but as she answered him, his smirk deepened. "That's a shame." His eyes rolled down from her eyes, lingered on his lips for half a second too long, before turning back to settle on his glass.

They were in a room full of people, all of which assumed he was too high and mighty to ever speak with a muggleborn like herself, let alone blatantly flirt with one. If he was simply trying to get a rise out of her, she would play his own game against him. Her arm lifted onto the bar's surface as her hand fell down onto his forearm gently. It was firm, no doubt toned like the rest of him from his years of service to the Dark Lord. He had never been much of a physical being, but as Hermione remembered the way he looked in his battle robes years ago, the elegant, enchanted leather sculpted tightly against his chest and running flush down his stomach, he must have been at least decently fit to have worn them so well. Her mind was wandering, distracted by the assumptions of what his unclothed chest might look like. Would he have a small tuft of blonde hair in the center or a full on coat of manly fur? Hermione redirected her intentions. "A shame for who, exactly?" She asked sweetly, bringing out the most seduction she could muster from her voice.

If he wanted to toy with her to see perhaps how uncomfortable he could make her, she would take it a step further and see just how far he was willing to take it before the humiliation would stop him. They were surrounded by a room full of people. Surely his pureblood ego wouldn't survive much longer without the repulsion of her tainted blood deterring him away from her. His smirk faded as soon as her fingertips touched him. He glanced down at her hand for a moment, analyzing it carefully, before bringing his drink up to his lips once more, ignoring her presence on his arm. His glass was nearly empty. He motioned for the bartender to bring another drink for the both of them. Hermione allowed it this time, her mission firmly at hand. Lucius leaned towards her slightly, his eyes returning to hers as his voice lowered to a promising tone. "You would enjoy a pureblood, I'm certain of it."

The sex in his eyes and dripping off his tongue was undeniable. Her hand stilled on his arm as she felt the beat in her chest quicken, her pulse taking notice of his close proximity and uncertain of whether she was satisfied with the short distance between them, or if shorting the gap would somehow steady the sudden nerves that trickled over her. "I've _had_ a pureblood." She replied softly, correcting his assumption in an attempt to calm her own uprising intrigue in him. _'He's playing a trick on you, Hermione. Don't be a fool, thinking he's actually interested in you. He was a death eater! He'd rather kill you than fuck you!' _The harsh reminders rang through her head as she ignored the way her body began to respond to him.

His eyes may have been hypnotic and his low drawl equally as alluring, but it was the subtle curve of his lips that made her shift in her seat as if trying to soothe an itch she simply couldn't reach. Lucius's cheeks lifted as he glanced across the room with a chuckle, taking note of the youngest Weasley son. "Trust me darling, that boy wouldn't know his way around a cunt if it came with an instructional pamphlet and a detailed diagram."

Hermione pulled her hand away and looked around, her head turning from side to side as if on a swivel. It didn't appear as if anyone had heard him, luckily, but that didn't mean no one would happen to overhear their exchanges if she allowed him to continue so crudely. "You should be more careful, Malfoy. Someone might hear you." She warned, wrapping her hand around the sides of her glass and drank down the last of her drink.

Lucius smirked devilishly and mimicked her movements, gulping down the rest of his firewhiskey and relished the fresh burn on its way down. He lowered the glass down onto the counter and withdrew another few coins from his pocket before dropping them beside the glass. His legs seemed remarkably steady as he stood, despite the number of beverages he had already consumed. They guided him towards her, passing the stool separating them only to stop beside hers. His thick cologne and the rich, sweet smell of cherry vanilla pipe tobacco reached her before he did, filling her senses and warming her to the feel of his breath against her neck. His head had tilted down beside hers as he coaxed her along with a whispered offer. "If privacy is your only concern, Miss Granger, I'm more than certain we can find an adequate location to continue our discussion."

His hand had found hers as he took a step away from her. The lust in his eyes remained but his body stiffened as he straightened up like a proper gentleman. He lifted her hand gently up to his lips and bowed his head slightly to place a soft kiss against her skin. She smelled sweet, perhaps a muggle perfume of sorts. It reminded him of candies, sugarcoated and tempting as he lifted his lips up off of her hand, holding her eyes to his. "Enjoy your evening, Miss Granger."

The pounding in her chest had peaked as he lowered their hands, slipping his from hers, and turned away to disappear into the crowd of people filling the Great Hall. Perhaps he had grown tired of her teasing and felt his attempts to claim her interest had failed, despite his best efforts. As she lost sight of him between the bodies in the hall, a nagging regret pressed into her. _'You may not want to date, but if you're obviously attracted to him, what's the harm in indulging a single fantasy for one night?' _She bit at the inside of her cheek bitterly and shifted her arms up onto the counter, about to order another drink when she felt something poking at the flesh of her palm. Opening her hand, a tiny bit of parchment shimmered and vibrating in her hand. It was charmed, perhaps even created entirely by magical means, and as she unfolded it carefully, she found the message written inside. _**'Fancy a stroll through the dungeons?'**_

She gasped as the piece of parchment burst into flames, burning out quickly and landing in a neat little pile of ash on the counter in front of her.

* * *

After thanking the bartender, Hermione made her way out of the Great Hall. She hadn't drank enough to feel wobbly on her feet or even uncertain in any of her abilities, but she could feel a steady flush spreading over her cheeks and couldn't help but wonder if it was the alcohol or the thought of what she was about to do that had caused it. It was true what he had said. Though she and Ron had more than consummated the seriousness of their relationship while it lasted, he hadn't exactly been the type of lover ever girl dreamed of. He was satisfying on some occasions and when he hasn't, he had still been sweet enough to make up for the lack of experience with cuddles and loving words afterwards.

As her feet carried her hastily through the abandoned corridors and away from the roar of the holiday party behind her, she wondered what type of lover Lucius Malfoy could possibly be. His tone with most people had always been demeaning, superior, and out-and-out rude; she hoped this wouldn't transcend into the bedroom. Her doubts began to fester. If he was still toying with her, aiming to somehow humiliate her, she would be so embarrassed at her own foolishness for trusting him, not to mention downright cross with him for living up to his lifelong reputation as a self-righteous git.

Her thoughts shifted to darker wonders. He had sounded so confident, so experienced. If he wanted to meet her down in the dungeons to fulfill each others desires for the evening, she was curious to see just how experienced he might be. Hermione's breathing quickened as she thought of the reality of their situation. There were only a mere handful of days left until Christmas, her friends were all upstairs in the Great Hall celebrating, and she was sneaking away down to the dungeons to have a go with an ex-death eater, a Malfoy of all people! Surely this wouldn't be a story to share during gossip hour at the office or at a night out with the girls. _'Unless he's a bloody brilliant shag,'_ Hermione thought cheekily.

She rounded a corner, not entirely certain of how far down into the dungeons he had gone, when she spotted him. Further down the long hall stood a tall figure with broad shoulders and a strikingly identifiable silhouette. His aristocratic features had strengthened his jawline over the years, hardened the cuts of his cheekbones, and deepened the allure to his bedroom eyes, leaving no doubt to linger about his privileged upbringing and strong bloodline.

He paused to catch her sight before stepping out of the hallway into one of the adjacent rooms. She followed. He had entered the old potions classroom. Since Hogwart's facelift, the course had been moved up to a classroom on the third floor. _'Something about not getting proper ventilation,'_ she remembered Ginny telling her about it while construction and remodeling of the old castle had still been taking place. _'Figures, they wait until after we lot leave to start worrying about student safety,'_ the girls joked, recalling the numerous times during their stay at the wizarding school where not only their safety but their lives had been risked.

The old potions classroom had been left as a study hall, though Hermione doubted many students wanted to make the trek down to the dungeons just to study unless they were Slytherins. Their common room was the only thing located at all conveniently close to the old potions classroom. Hermione recalled countless times running down with Harry and Ron, worried they would be late to class simply because of how distant it had been placed from their other classes and their own common room.

Now, the solitude of its location would prove to be a hidden benefit. She closed the door behind her and whispered a simple locking charm on the knob. It clicked into place securely, leaving her to turn back around to the room with a deep breath. He was watching her, leaning against one of the large potions work stations, the long black tables coming up higher than most, almost to the waist as it provided the most comfortable position for brewing and other concentrated arts.

His eyes held a lust that radiated off of him as he smirked confidently at her. "I'm surprised." He admitted, pushing himself up off of the edge of the potions table and taking a few paces towards her. "I was almost certain you wouldn't take me up on my offer."

Hermione blushed. "I could say the same about you, Malfoy."

"Lucius," He corrected her gently.

She tested it out. "Lucius." It sounded foreign on her tongue but as she said it, his cheeks lifted slightly as his cocky grin deepened. Hermione breathed out nervously as he passed another table, strutting smoothly towards her. "I meant what I said earlier. I don't date."

"I wouldn't exactly call this a date." Lucius replied coolly.

Hermione let out a quiet laugh. "No, I'd hope not." The gap between them had nearly shrunken away to nothingness as he approached her. She added firmly, "I simply meant, I hope there's no confusion about what this is." Lucius paused in front of her and lifted an eyebrow curiously, as if to ask what exactly she thought a quick shag in the dungeons was. The witch's cheeks reddened as she explained. "I mean, it'll just be a one-off and I'd appreciate it if we could keep this between us."

Realization hit him as he chuckled at her choice of wording, as polite as she could possibly be considering what she really meant. She meant to use him, just as he meant to use her, but he clearly wasn't worthy enough to let anyone know about their exchange. That would simply be out of the question, horrifying even, to let it somehow slip that the golden Gryffindor princess had somehow managed to bed an ex-death eater. He laughed again. And good Gods, imagine the uproar if she actually enjoyed it! If her concern hadn't sounded so hilariously serious, he might have been inclined to take offense. "If you're afraid, Miss Granger, no one's forcing you here." He swatted at the air as if shooing her away and stated patronizingly, "Go run along back to your friends where it's nice and safe."

"I'm not afraid." Hermione shot back defensively. "I just don't want you to get the wrong idea."

"The only _idea_ I have," he began carefully, drawing his front closer to hers as his hands lifted purposefully to rest on her hips. "...involves you..." His eyes trailed down the length of her bright red holiday dress, ending just barely above the knee. The thumbs of his hands kneaded idly against the fabric as if its very presence bothered him, forcing a physical barrier between him and her underlying flesh. "...without this, for starters." He gently tugged at the hem of her dress before lifting his eyes back up to hers. "Now does that sound like the wrong idea to you?"

She could feel him against her, his hardened arousal and his impatient desire all wrapped up into one undeniable bulge pressing against the front of her torso just below her navel and above her own hidden mound. Matching his eager movements and then some, she brought her hands up to his chest and fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. "And then what would happen in this idea of yours?"

His hands shifted below the hem of her dress and settled on her thighs, rising up her long legs until they were buried beneath the dress entirely. She was dripping, it was a wonder how she had resisted him thus far, let alone not pounced on him as soon as she locked the door. His devilish smirk returned as a long finger of his left hand slipped between her delicate folds teasingly. "Well, given the obvious gentleman that I am," Lucius drawled low and steady, finding the pleasure at the peak of her slit with his thumb. "I couldn't imagine leaving you dissatisfied, in any way.

"Mhmm," Hermione breathed out softly, parting her legs slightly as she tried to subtly urge him forward. "Of course."

She felt herself being slowly lifted up off the ground before she spotted his wand in his right hand, guiding her movements until her backside came in contact with the firm, heavy slab of the potions table. "And we mustn't forget the festivities of the evening." His wand angled upwards as a fresh collection of mistletoe blossomed overhead, the first two digits of his right hand still finding solace in the warmth of her tight opening. The deep green leaves dangled down over the plump round berries as Lucius added warmly, "I believe you're obligated to kiss me now."

Hermione let out a soft laugh. "I'm obligated, am I?"

Lucius maintained his grave tone, though his smile broke through his otherwise stoic demeanor, giving hint to his sarcasm. "Yes, as says tradition."

Hermione played along, lifting her arms up to rest on his thick shoulders, her fingertips gently combing through the back of his long blonde hair. It felt softer than she imagined. "Well then, if it's tradition, we clearly can't go against tradition, can we?"

"I'm afraid there's no way around it." He shook his head slightly and lowered his wand down onto the table beside her thigh. The dress had lifted, rising up her thighs until the width between her legs parted enough for him to step in between them. His hand remained in place at her core, his thumb grazing idly against the sensitive bud above her opening, as she brought her lips onto his.

Her hands pulled away from his shoulders to cup the sides of his face. His stubble was rough but the softness of his lips drew her in, easing her into him until her kiss had opened, inviting him in for a deeper taste just as his fingers gained the very same below her waist. The height difference that the table offered was unfamiliar, but as Lucius lifted his chin and Hermione dipped down to reach him, their union intensified. Her hands at the sides of his face turned to gentle clawing, urging him closer to her until their bodies had become flush against one another, parted only at the waists as his left hand divided him, filling her with a third finger until she had reached her breaking point.

The blonde wizard pulled his lips away from hers but refused to leave her skin, leaving open mouthed kisses down the length of her unmarked neck until it flushed with a heated red glow. He felt her leaning back, her hands finding support further behind her on the surface of the table as her head tilted to the side, elongating and presenting her neck almost seductively as he greedily relished every taste. His right hand reached for his wand once more. It passed over to her dress, slowly pulling down its length until the entire top, right down to her navel, melted away. The cool air of the dungeons reached her freshly exposed flesh, bringing forth the goosebumps until he felt them under his tongue. She was beginning to unravel as his kisses found more and more of her sensitive flesh.

The feel of his hot breath tickled at her collarbone, his tongue trailing over the delicate layers of her shoulder. His lips fell into the curve of her neck, suckling and taunting at the young witch until his name had fallen from her tongue and found his ears through a tantalizing breath. "Don't stop, Lucius, please."

His mouth moved smoothly down to hover over the perked, hardened bud of her left bosom. It tightened and strained against the smooth womanly curves of her chest, begging him to soothe the growing ache that came along with it. His head lifted to claim her mouth once more, quick and feverish, before shifting below to her deliciously inviting nipple. The witch exhaled sharply as his lips closed around it, his tongue swirling over the enraged flesh with a soothing, luscious heat. One of her hands fell to the back of his head, gently urging him to continue as he consumed her.

"Lucius," his name slipped from her again, her voice a throaty whisper as he lifted from her left breast to fall down to her right, taunting at the sensitive bud with the same lavish treatment he had given the first. The cool air rushed over the now moistened skin of her left breast, drawing the skin to tighten again. His hand covered it, warming it with the flush of his palm as his tongue tasted its twin peak.

Hermione's hand slipped down from the back of his head to the side of his neck before continuing down onto the firm feel of his chest. She pulled at the buttons, popping a couple out of their holes until the third defied her hurried attempts. Their somewhat unusual angle, with her on the table in front of him and him leaning down to pleasure her breasts, proved difficult as she tried to reach the lower half of buttons that kept him fully clothed. When she groaned in frustrated defeat and straightened back up on the table, she felt Lucius lift his head briefly to aid in the struggle. Stealing another kiss in the process, he rose his wand to the collar of his shirt and trailed it down the stretch of his chest and his stomach, stopping only once he reached the thick silver buckle of his black leather belt. The sturdy wood of his wand clanked heavily against the dense metal, leaving his torso bare, exposed to her hungry eyes.

"Better?" Lucius asked with a cocky smirk.

The witch grinned flirtatiously as her eyes roamed over his front. As she had guessed, a small tuff of blonde hair coated the center of his broad chest. The smooth sheets of muscle making up his chest and abdomen were sprinkled with faint scars, some deeper than others, though mainly collected over the bulk of his chest. _'The Dark Lord,'_ Hermione thought bitterly as her hand graced over the raised marks with a silent fascination.

"Do they bother you?" His voice had fallen, his confidence lost as he hesitantly clung to his wand, ready to replace the shirt if she said yes.

Hermione thumbed at one of the deeper scars spanning from just below his right shoulder and curving a few inches down to his side. "No," she replied honestly. He seemed embarrassed, ashamed perhaps, at his physical imperfections. His appearance had always been strikingly refined, his clothes immaculate and his hair carefully manicured to exude a delicious range of emotions from his peers. His stern, hard features demanded respect and asserted his authority, while his expensive attire and rich colognes showcased a glimpse at his obvious wealth. But his scars presented nothing but his internal imperfections raising to the surface at last after years of abuse and neglect under Voldemort's reign.

He was just about to cast his shirt back into place when Hermione stopped him, dropping her lips down to his chest and leaving a trail of gentle little kisses across the most ruined parts of him. The blonde wizard watched her with a rising fascination. When the whole of his chest had been sweetened by her touch, Hermione sat back up, tucking a finger into the waistband of his trousers and tugged at it playfully. "And the rest," she requested, her eyes holding his with a smoldering seduction he had never expected from the goody-goody bookworm.

Lucius chuckled at her bluntness and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her unexpectedly to the edge of the table before guiding her back down onto it with a gentle hand at the small of her back. The cold table bit at her bare shoulders and back, leaving her thankful that the heat between them had lingered as his fingers pulled away from her opening to focus on the aroused bundle of nerves between her legs.

The dull clang of leather against metal accompanied his finger's movements as she heard his trousers slack and drop down below the tall table. His hand stilled as she felt the tip of his member against her entrance. "Look at me, darling." Her eyes had subconsciously closed as he stroked at her clit, coaxing even more pleasure to her womanly folds before he brought his own pleasure into the equation. Her cheeks were flushed and her thighs had begun to tremble gently at his hand's previous teasing, but as the smooth, seductive tone of his words reached her, her eyes found him and brought a sweet smile to his lips. "There you are... beautiful witch."

Hermione reached up to pull him down to her, capturing his lips with a kiss as he filled her. He swallowed down her soft, tender sounds of pleasure as they merged and blended with his own throaty groans, forcing them to pull apart if only for breaths. "Gods," Lucius hissed through a sharp sigh of satisfaction. He hadn't expected her to be so responsive, so wet. As his movements quickened, hers mirrored his own, pulling him closer and urging him deeper as she lifted her legs to coil around his waist with need.

He took her hint, grabbing her legs by the backs of her knees and shifting them away from his hips and to his front side, lifting them until they rested against the bulk of his chest and sent her feet dangling up by his shoulders. His head dipped back down to claim another heated kiss as much as her legs would allow, deepening their embrace as his manhood reached a hidden spark within her. The angle of her hips against his and the depths that her legs against his chest provided had given him access to a sweeter spot and as he thrust with her, against her, and inside her, he felt her tighten and convulse around his hardened flesh.

"Don't stop," Hermione cried, and he had quickened his pace, pulling her closer to the edge of the potions table as he eagerly drove into her, matching her rhythms and sending her into a rushing wave of release. Her legs tensed and trembled against him as she felt a warmth spread through her. The witch's body relaxed and melted into his as he swore and reached his own completion only seconds after her, climbing down from their high together as their dewy flesh and staggered breaths intertwined into one.

His shirt was the first to return, followed shortly after by his trousers and belt, affixed securely into place as Hermione used her own wand to draw the length of his dress back up over her stomach and chest until it appeared to have never left in the first place. She slipped down off of the table and looked down at it, wondering if a simple cleansing charm would be enough to keep the blush from her cheeks as they left the old, abandoned classroom. It would have to do, and so she waved her wand over the potions table and any trace of them vanished from sight.

"Would it be ill-mannered of me to ask you to reconsider your rule against courtship?" Lucius asked as he straightened the front of his shirt and flattened the lapels of his dress robes to perfection.

Hermione hesitated, finding her shoes underneath the tall table where they had fallen from her feet during the peak of their activities. She slipped them on and answered gently, "I need to focus on other things right now. I'm up for a promotion at work soon."

Lucius nodded, silent at first as he perhaps considered how to handle a rejection. They came so few and far between, it was difficult to place the last time he had experienced one, besides the separation with his wife of course. After a moment, his charming smile returned as he found his gentlemanly roots and gave her an understanding nod. "Congratulations then." Hermione smiled proudly and thanked him as they walked to the classroom's door. It clicked unlocked, allowing them passage through as Lucius held it open.

It wasn't until they reached one of the main corridors branching off of the Great Hall that they knew they would have to part ways. Lucius would return to the manor, while Hermione planned to spend a short while mingling with friends before heading home for the evening. "Have a good night, Lucius." Hermione spoke first, wondering if a handshake would seem too overly formal and orchestrated to the people passing further down the corridor.

Before she could consider another option, Lucius had reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back just as he had done in the Great Hall earlier, before meeting her down in the dungeons. "You as well, Miss Granger. Have a Merry Christmas."

* * *

_**A/Ns: Happy Holidays and a Wonderful New Year to all of you Lumione shippers! You're all some of the sweetest people I've ever met. I only wish I could send you all some nice warm cocoa with little mini marshmallows and lots of nice warm, cozy Weasley jumpers! **_

_**xoxo WildBubblesRoam**_


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